The book rested on the nightstand for a while, a homemade bookmark lost somewhere between the very first pages.
For no particular reason, I got up while writing this blog post to go get it.
It’s a fantasy book. One I’ve been meaning to read for ages and only thought of buying a few months back.
It has nothing, nothing to do with the plan topic of this post.
It was supposed to be about the end of the mind and soul-consuming stress provided by the day job, which was swallowing every creative spark that would, somehow, go through the thick anxiety fog it was feeding.
Author Michael Ende wrote it and it got published back in 1979. The very famous The Never Ending Story.
According to his wiki page, he hated the 1984 movie by the same name, a movie that I loved and by which I discover the book.
The book is there, nearby. I’m not gonna read it, I still wanna write (very uncomfortably too, for mid-the-second-paragraph, my kiddo decided to join the book, the laptop and me on the little blue couch) about the last day job, about how tearful but liberating it was.
Now, the sun rises on what promises to be a beautiful day. Kiddo is wiggling. Dog too. Hubby-to-be is at work already.
The neverending circle of retail seasons and sales will go on without this mama writer today.
What a relief.
Marie Alice Writes & Reads 